


Much Ado About Nothing

by starknjarvis



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Gratutious Shakespeare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 08:22:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16889010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starknjarvis/pseuds/starknjarvis
Summary: Jason is starring in the community theater's newest production. Nothing he says is going to convince Dick not to give him shit about it-- or stop him from being there on opening night.





	Much Ado About Nothing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HuiLian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HuiLian/gifts).



It’s a cold day in Gotham. Winter is on the horizon, and the first cold snap of the year has hit the city hard. It’s only mid-October, and the temperatures outside have dropped to nearly freezing. It’s not snowing yet, but the threat is on the horizon.

The truth is, Dick loves the snow. He likes Christmas, when his nose is cold but there’s hot chocolate and a built-in culture of optimism.

But this? This is early. He’s going to freeze tonight on patrol.

He’s in Bludhaven for the week, but he’s back at the manor to pick up his winter gear from the Cave. He hadn’t expected to need it so soon, so it’s still tucked in the closet behind the training room. He digs through a bundle of Robin-themed gear, including branded earmuffs, before he finds his own insulated costume and gloves.

On his way back to his car, he decides to walk through the manor so he can grab a snack from the kitchen. It’s a quiet day—the kids are at school, and Bruce is downtown for a big Wayne Enterprises annual meeting. Alfred will probably be glad that Dick’s stopped by.

Dick is nearly at the kitchen when an unexpected voice grabs his attention. It’s deep, rough, and cadenced strangely. There’s a lilt, like the person is reciting poetry.

Frowning, Dick followed the voice into Cass’s ballet studio.

When Dick finally gets close enough to distinguish words, it’s mostly nonsensical.  

“…You’ll beat the post!” declares the voice.  

Though Dick has known the owner of the voice for years, it’s still a surprise to finally turn the corner and find Jason was standing in the center of the black floor, staring at the mirror. His usual growl has lifted nearly an octave, crisp and precise. His accent hasn’t gone away, but there’s a deliberateness to this words that reminds Dick of Alfred.

Jason looks at himself in the mirror, adjusts his stance, and then says in a slightly more suggestive tone: ““Ho! now you strike like the blind man: 'twas the boy that stole your meat, and you'll beat the post.”

Dick bursts into laughter.

Jason whirls around, eyes wide. He nearly loses his balance, and overcompensates so that he lands into a fighting crouch.

“What… the hell?” Dick wheezes.

Jason’s face is red, bright and scalding. "This isn't what it looks like!” He looks down at himself, and then says, “Okay... Maybe it is. "

“I have no idea what this looks like,” Dick tells him, still laughing. “What are you doing in here? Who’s beating what meat?”

“Don’t be an idiot. It’s Shakespeare,” Jason sneers. He stops and frowns, as though he’s regretting saying that much.

Dick’s jaw drops. “Are you practicing for a _play_?”

“No, I’m reciting in front of a mirror for fun,” Jason drawled.

“What play are you in? When? Where?”

Jason sighs and crosses his arms. “It’s not a big deal. My neighbors asked me to play Benedick in their community theater production of _Much Ado_.”

“Charles and Derek? They’re so nice,” Dick says.

“I’m going to move out of that apartment on a dark night when no one is expecting it, and then I’ll go back to living alone where none of you pop by to visit my neighbors without me,” Jason says, staring at the ceiling.

“They offered to watch Project Runway with me. No one else will watch it,” Dick says. “And they make the best mixed drinks.”

“ _Anyway_ , I’m just doing them a favor. It’s a short run. It’s not a _thing_.”

“Wait, so who are you playing?”

“Will any name I say mean anything to you? Have you ever even read _Much Ado About Nothing_?” Jason challenges.

“Nope,” Dick says, shrugging. “But are you the villain? The comic relief? The best friend?”

“I’m…the lead,” Jason admits. “Benedick. You really should read more Shakespeare.”

“Why? I’ll just see your performance.”

“Oh, no. No, no.” Jason shook his head and hands, like he could ward off Dick’s words. “Not a chance.”

“Why not?”

“Because I said so, Big Bird.”

“That’s a terrible reason.”

“You don’t even _like_ Shakespeare.”

“I like to support the community. You can’t let the play flop because you won’t invite your enormous family. We could fill half the seats on our own.”

“You aren’t invited. We’ll survive without you. Any of you.”

Dick shrugs. “Charles and Derek will probably invite me anyway.”

Jason runs his hands through his hair, tugging at the white lock over his eyes like he’s considering pulling it out completely. “Are you _really_ going to keep this going just to fuck with me? I need to practice, dude.”

Frowning, Dick says, “Jay, I really do want to see it. I mean, I’m fucking with you a _little_ bit, but the entire rogues’ gallery couldn’t stop me from seeing you perform on a real stage. I couldn’t not see this.”

“Dick,” Jason says, wheedling, “it’s a long play. Almost three hours. You don’t have time for that.”

“Jason,” Dick returns, serious, “I missed a lot of stuff the first time around with you. I know that. For all your big accomplishments as Robin, I was pouting in Bludhaven. You think that now that you’re back and performing in community theater that I would miss the chance to be in the front row?” He shakes his head. “I’ve been to all of Cass’s ballet recitals. I was at Tim’s graduation last year. I’m not going to miss you being the lead of a whole play.”

“I’m not thirteen anymore, Dick. This isn’t a school production,” Jason points out.

“Yeah, instead of just beating out some other preteens, you got picked for the lead out of the whole _city_ ,” Dick says. “I’m not an expert on plays, but they don’t usually throw random people’s neighbors into lead roles if they don’t deserve them. You should be proud of this.”

Though Jason had fought the blush from his face, his ears were still stained red. It was a trait Dick hadn’t realized he remembered from Jason’s time as Robin. “Like I said, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Agree to disagree, Little Wing,” Dick says. “Are you memorizing your lines?” He spots a worn, slim paperback with the play’s title on it on the floor nearby. He picks it up, finding that half the page has been highlighted to show when Jason is supposed to speak. He flips through it quickly, ignoring Jason’s strangled protests. “Wow, Jay. You have to learn all of this? You’re like half this play.”

“I know all my lines,” Jason grumbles. “I’m just trying to nail the tone. It’s called acting, not memorization.”

“Can I help?”

Jason blinks at him. “What?”

“Can I help?” Dick asks, skimming the page Jason was on. “Acting isn’t a one-man show.”

“I—Alfred is actually supposed to come up when he’s done prepping dinner. That’s why I’m here.”

“Oh,” Dick says, closing the book. “Right.” Of course. Jason would argue until he lost his voice that he and Dick weren’t family, but those barriers never applied to Alfred. Dick had thought he and Jason were doing better, but there is still so much happening in his life that Dick doesn’t know about—might never know about.

Dick needs to learn that just because Jason’s healing, it doesn’t mean he’s going to give Dick another chance to be his brother.

Jason clears his throat. “But he’s still probably going to be a while, if you want to help until then…?”

Dick nods and opens the book again. “Cool! What do I do?”

Though Jason shakes his head and rolls his eyes, there’s laughter in his voice when he says, “You just read every line that’s not highlighted. If I fuck something up, even if it’s just switching two words around, call me out. It’s not hard.”

“All right,” Dick says seriously, widening his stance like he’s about to spar.

“Go to the next page. Start with Don Pedro’s first line,” Jason says.

Dick finds the line and clears his throat. “Now, Signior, where’s the Count? Did you see him?”

“Troth, my lord, I have played the part of Lady Fame. found him here as melancholy as a lodge in a warren. I told him, and I think I told him true, that your Grace had got the goodwill of this young lady…” Jason performs the whole speech with a sudden, unexpected air of _performance_. Dick had half-expected him to play along by rote, but he’s… This is _acting_. He’s earnest, but there’s mischief in his eyes.

“Wow,” Dick says. “I have no idea what that meant, but you’re great, Jay.”

Jason’s brief smile is proud before he wrests it back under control. “Lead role, Dick. Come on, that’s not your next line. Keep going.”

Dick does. They go back and forth until the scene ends. For the first few lines, Jason checks himself in the mirror, adjusting his shoulders or stance. Then, as Dick grows more comfortable with the tricky cadence of the old-fashioned writing, Jason falls into the scene. He shoots back complex dialogue like they’re his own catchphrases, easy and fun.

When Alfred finally shows up, it takes them both a moment to notice him. Dick’s disappointed to hand the book over, but he needs to head out to make it back to Bludhaven in time for his patrol tonight anyway.

“I’m not kidding about wanting to see the final performance,” Dick tells Jason seriously before he goes.

“I’ll, uh, send you the link for the tickets. I’d give you a free one, but, hey, you’re a Wayne and it’s a community theater,” Jason says.

“I think I can spare a few dollars for a good cause,” Dick says, giving him a wink. “Can’t wait to see it.”

Jason grins and shoos him out of the room. Dick grabs his winter gear and then lingers in the hall until Jason and Alfred start trading lines, Alfred’s accent gliding over the strange dialect like syrup, and then heads out.

He wonders how the local theater feels about neon signage in the audience to cheer on their lead.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for huilian's Batfam Christmas Stocking! The prompt was "It isn't what is looks like! Okay... Maybe it is..."   
>  with a touch of her additional request for Jason being a literary nerd.


End file.
